Order 66
by Scriptor Sapiens
Summary: The clones' view of Order 66
1. Utapau

CC-2224 observed the walls of the sink-hole with little enthusiasm. The 212th Attack Battalion had already ascended to another level. He was here, planning the strategy with several of his lieutenants. He usually had great zeal when in a battle, often yelling commands to his troops, especially when fighting the armies of the brilliant military strategist General Grievous.

But Grievous was dead.

He had received word from General Kenobi that the fearsome cyborg would no longer pose a threat to the battle. He was glad. The general had cost him many of his men. And his death would bring an end to the destruction of the war.

But the battle of Utapau was all but ended.

With no leader, the droid were simply trying to hold ground, and were failing miserably.

Hearing an alien cry, he knew the battle would end even sooner. General Kenobi was returning. He would make things go a lot faster.

He turned and saw Kenobi riding up on his varactyl. He removed his helmet as the Jedi reigned in his mount. He knew it was against protocol to show your face to a superior, but Kenobi was more than a general. He was a friend.

"Commander, contact your troops," he said. "Tell them to move to the higher levels."

"Very good sir," he responded. He began to turn but stopped, remembering the cylindrical item in his belt. "Oh, by the way, I think you'll be needing this."

Kenobi smiled warmly, accepting the hilt of his lightsaber. "Thank you Cody."

Then his eyes were forward, face grimly determined. "Now, let's get a move on, we have a battle to win!"

And he rode away.

Even knowing the general would not hear it, 2224 smiled, responding: "Yessir!" And he replaced his helmet.

As he reached for a communicator to give the orders to his troops, it rang. He pressed the accept button. A hologram flickered to life. It was a man. He was wearing a dark, hooded robe, his face horribly disfigured. He was contemplating hanging up, but the man spoke.

"Commander Cody-"

The unmistakable voice of the Supreme Chancellor. He was listening almost immediately. Palpatine's orders took Priority 1.

"The time has come. Execute Order 66."

For a moment, the clone was shocked. The order he had never expected to hear, had come. The human part of him screamed in protest. But then the soldier side kicked in. Orders were orders.

Especially from the chancellor.

The hologram had already faded, because Palpatine already knew the answer.

"Yes my lord."

He glanced at his side. The AT-TE would be the perfect weapon. Long range, powerful, accurate.

But he hesitated.

This was Obi-Wan Kenobi.

His general.

His ally.

His friend.

But orders were orders.

Almost in agony he gave the command. "BLAST HIM!"

The air shook with the sound of the shot fired from the AT-TE.

And to 2224, all sound ceased as he watched the shot soar across the sink hole.

The explosion was magnificent. Rocks and debris flew from the walls. The varactyl screamed. A humming blue blade flicked and died.

Then he watched as General Kenobi and his mount tumbled from the wall.

As they fell, he could have sworn he saw Kenobi, just for a moment, look at him with a face wrought with fear and pain and a question.

_Cody, Why?_

And Kenobi disappeared from view.

The splash at the bottom of the sink-hole was the que.

All sound returned, and he found himself once again in the battle.

"Lieutenant! Get the AT-RT's to the upper levels now!"


	2. Mygeeto

Mygeeto was cold, windy, in all honesty an awful place to be. That is of course if you don't have heating systems inside your clothes.

And today, CC-1138 was glad he was wearing his armor.

Phase II armor was infinitely preferable to the body-bags that were called Phase I. In addition to being more damage resistant, it gave more flexibility, customization, and climate control.

So the scorch marks that 1138 had earned through his long and rough career stayed on his uniform.

But even the great Commander Bacara, hero of many of the Outer Rim Sieges and ARC trainee, was beginning to lose hope.

The droids were pushing the Galactic Marines back across the bridge. All their work to liberate Jygat was falling to ruin as the spider walkers effortlessly pushed the IFT-X back across the bridge with explosive rounds.

So now, the great Commander Bacara was reduced to cowering behind a piece of rubble, waiting for his call requesting back-up to be answered as he watched his troops fall.

"Comander!"

He risked a glance up.

Tall and powerful, lit from below by a glowing lightsaber, Ki-Adi Mundi extended a pale hand. "Have you given up on me so early?"

Bacara scowled at him from beneath his helmet. He had never held to much fondness for Jedi. They were just too powerful. It wasn't natural. But the general had gotten him through many battles, so the clone (grudgingly) respected the cerean.

1138 stood, ignoring the outstretched hand. "Sir, the bridge is all but lost. I suggest we retreat to the far side and blow the bridge."

Mundi considered it for a moment. "That would work, except we would have to walk another mile to the next bridge, and I'm sure the droids would be waiting for us when we got there."

"Then what do you suggest general?" He hoped Mundi didn't catch the sarcasm in his voice.

The Jedi's eyes flashed with anger, but only for a moment. The look was superseded by an expression of grim determination. "Fortunatley, I was able to round up some more support from a nearby bridge."

1138 had noticed the tanks that were materializing from the snow.

"We fight?" he inquired.

Bringing his lightsaber higher, the cerean glared past the clone and at the oncoming droids. "We fight."

Then he turned, surveying the other clones. Then he raised the glowing blue plasma over his head and yelled "CHARGE!"

And the Galactic Marines clashed with the droid with a roar unparalleled by any battle before.

Mundi took the lead as the tanks crawled over the debris. He looked more like a bolt of blue lightening than a being.

For a moment, 1138 was proud to have Mundi as a general.

The Jedi risked a glance back at his troops, who were watching in stunned admiration. "C'MON!" he called, before running forward to face more droids.

Then a crackling noise invaded the helmet of 1138. "Commander Bacara, execute Order 66."

The chancellor had given the order.

In his peripheral, he saw his brothers stop running. They had heard it too.

They all cocked their rifles. Mundi stopped. He gazed bewildered at the six barrels now pointed at him, glancing from one trooper to the next.

He had just realized his commander's treachery.

But it wasn't treachery.

Not on 1138's part at least.

Order 66 was only to be issued in case of a rebellion, so there must have been one, and that made Mundi the treacherous one.

With righteous fury, 1138 squeezed the trigger of his weapon. The other clones followed suit.

Mundi was immediately putting his lightsaber between himself and his clones, shot ricocheting from the blade and back into the troopers, but the traitorous scum was grazed by a droid's shot.

The momentary stagger was all 1138 needed.

The first shot hit Mundi in the chest. Several more followed. Mundi gasped in agony, but his gasp was silenced by more shots. He fell to the ground.

The surviving four marines, including 1138, converged on the body. If he wasn't dead, they were going to make sure he was.

But the cerean was dead. Six smoking scorch marks on the man's chest served as testimony to the surgical precision of the Galactic Marines.

He noticed one of his comrades was panting. Shaking. Acting like he had just committed a murder.

"W-w-we k-k-killed him," he stammered.

1138 was glad that the disgusted look on his face was concealed by his helmet. "He was a traitor, a scum bag. What are you ashamed of?"

"He trusted us-"

"BUT HE BETRAYED US!" roared the commander. "He betrayed your trust! He had it coming!"

"Did he?"

1138 was fit to vomit. The clone was a disgrace.

"Fall back and pull yourself together soldier," he ordered. Then he turned to the other Marines. They stood stock still. The commander had never behaved like this before. "Get me some rocket launchers up here, take out those spider walkers!"


	3. Felucia

"It will be done, my lord."

CC-5052 heard the static as the transmission ended. Felucia's jungles seemed to fall extremely silent. Several birds turned to glare at him. Did they know? Could they tell what he was about to do?

5052 pushed the thought out of his mind. They were just Felucian birds, what did they know?

"Bly!"

5052 turned and saw a familiar sight.

Aayla Secura strode down the hill, exotic blue skin marrying her to the fungal flowers the AT-TEs lumbered through. In one hand she held a lightsaber. In the other, she held a bluish rock.

He straightened and saluted her. "Yes, General?"

The Twi'lek paused, giving him a quizzical look. "Bly, is something wrong?"

Beneath his helmet, the clone paled. "No, general, why?"

Aayla shook her head, lekku swinging, and a slight smile on her rose lips. "You just haven't saluted me like that since Quell, when we first met."

Reluief flooded 5202. She hadn't really noticed anything. "What was it you wanted to say to me General?"

"Oh, yes," she said, lifting the rock she was holding. "I found this."

"What is it, General?"

"A piece of extremely concentrated poison," she said, brows knotting. "The droids are moving the toxin in this form to ease travel. A chunk this size could poison a small lake for years."

5202's face wrinkled in disgust. "Blasted droids. What do you plan to do, General?"

Aayla closed her eyes, looking weary and old. "I don't yet know Bly. I just know it's what they're doing. I was hoping you would have an idea."

The clone pondered the statement. "Tell you what, I'll call up Galle. He usually knows how to remedy these kinds of situations."

The twi'lek smiled at him, some of the weariness melting away. "Bly, what would I do without you?"

Beneath his mask, 5202 had to avert his eyes. She trusted him. She trusted him with her life. He couldn't look at her in the face.

She seemed to notice something was wrong. "Is there something you need to tell me Bly?"

"No, General." He would have said more, but he was trying not to choke on a sob.

The general gave him a look of concern. She was probably considering pressing the issue. But she decided not to. Instead she marched to a small rise, where there was a break in the foliage. Looking out over the low growth, he seemed serene, almost like part of the land itself.

5202 noticed that he had followed her to the rise. Several of his comrades had followed too. They formed a semicircle around her back.

She did not seem to notice, as though lost in thought.

To his right, something must have spooked a bird. With a shrill cry, it fluttered from its hiding place ad disappeared.

The Jedi glanced upward, her caramel eyes tracking the bird as it flew.

And Bly knew.

She was distracted, unfocused, vulnerable.

He shouldered is weapon and took aim.

Then he squeezed the trigger.

She probably never saw it coming.

The shot hit her in the back, spinning her half-way around.

The other troopers opened fire, peppering Aayla Secura's body with shots.

She fell to the ground, landing in a clump of mushrooms.

5202 knew she was dead.

But he kept on shooting.

He shot until his finger ached.

He shot to make sure that he would never have to look into the face of the friend he had betrayed.

He shot to make sure that the twi'lek's caramel eyes would remain shut.

Because he knew if those eyes ever looked at him again, he would die of shame.

And because he kept shooting, the other troopers, did the same.


End file.
